Baseball blog 3: Remember your first big league game?

With the major league season in full swing, I’ve been busy in recent days trying to plan trips to the ballpark this summer.

I try to make over to St. Pete at least once a year, and I also have a regular trip somewhere with my dad and brother (more on that in a couple of weeks).

I’ve been thinking about getting down to Miami for my first Marlins game now that they have a real stadium — although not a real team.Every time I bring it up, my wife reminds me of how much fun it is to travel 300 miles each way with two small children. Maybe just the Rays this year. We’ll see. The kids are excited about the prospect of the all-you-can-eat seats in Miami, though.

Can you remember the first time you went to a major league game?The memories of my first one are starting to fade.

Here’s what I think I recall:

I know for sure the game was at Riverfront Stadium in Cincinnati. Reds vs. Mets. I believe it was 1983, which means I would have been 9.

My cousin Chuck, who is about a dozen years older than me, took me. He called the morning of the game to ask if I wanted to go. He had a girlfriend with a younger brother or something my age, and I think he wanted another guy to distract him.

Living in Louisville, Ky., it was just a 90-minute trip to the stadium.

I was always a big baseball fan, but not a fan of the Reds. I remember vividly how my brother cried that he wasn’t invited to go. He was a Reds fan and had never been to a game. He didn’t like it that I got to go first, even though I’m three years older than him. In fact, my dad, who barely cares about pro sports, felt guilty about the whole thing and started taking both of us to two Reds games every summer after that.

But in 1983, it was just me. As most 9-year-olds would be, I was pretty much in awe of the stadium. I’d never been in such a huge stadium before. (It wasn’t until a little later I realized what a dump it was.)

I still remember how bright that plastic green grass was. Riverfront was one of those classic multi-sport stadiums where half the seats in the place were terrible for baseball and football.

We sat in the middle level — yellow seats.

About all I can remember of being there is that I got ice cream in one of those little baseball helmets. While I did, I missed George Foster (then playing for the Mets) hit a home run to deep center field. Oh well.

The Reds won, 4-2 I think.

It was a good experience, but the best part is how it sparked a lifelong interest in going to games.

I know my dad never has cared much about who won any of the games he took me and my brother to, but we’ve been to a lot of games together over the years.

We have all those memories of being together at the ballpark. A lot of the memories have nothing to do with the games.

Later in the summer, I’ll share some other memories of games and stadiums I’ve been to.

If you have some fun memories you’d like to share, send them to me at stuart.korfhage@staugustine.com or add them to the comments section here or on Facebook.

And, if you can, take your kids to the ballpark. Chances are pretty good they’ll still be thinking about it decades later.